After making lunch, I shove a broccoli stalk, fennel fronds and stems, half a lemon and a salmon skin down the disposer at the same time, turn on the water and flip the switch.

After about 30 seconds of fighting through — and clearing — the fibrous, fatty material, my disposer began its equivalent of whimpering and water began pooling up in the little sink.

Oops.

Apparently, I forgot where I was — my kitchen. Perhaps I should’ve taken my own advice on how to sharpen disposer blades. Suddenly, worries about plumbers and service calls and bills started coalescing into a decision to just hope that it cleared up on its own.

Too afraid to run the dishwasher, we ended up washing the dishes from the day’s barbecue in the laundry tub, which subsequently plugged up.

Oops.

Luckily, I know people who know things about appliances who also find the stupid people that break them (me) to be endearing. So I called him on Sunday.